Blood Red Crimson Life
by Psychotic Sprite
Summary: Upon the tip of his ...red...red...red... tongue, the metallic taste lingering, urging the name to spew forth. Zaraki Kenpachi One-shot - NO ROMANCE - Slightly Gory - Mini drabble-ish - Zanpakutou fic... R&R :


Disclaimer - I Do Not Own Bleach

I hope I got the name I picked right, sorry if I didn't, it was difficult trying to get it the right way.

This is a One-Shot

WARNING - Slightly Gory Details

_NO ROMANCE_

Enjoy

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**_...Blood...Red...Crimson...Life..._**

"**I WANT TO GET STRONGER**" Kenpachi cried out to the sky as he tried, failing, to hide his tears. The defeat at the hand of that boy, Ichigo and his sword Zangetsu made him strive to become stronger. To challenge him again, to defeat him partnered with his own Zanpakutou one day, when he would finally learn it's name.

He remembered how it felt to have no name and realized the pain he was putting his Zanpakutou through. Denying it the pleasure of a name, denying it the pleasure of his battle lust, it's creation. The chance to be what it was born to be, unlike him who had at least a choice. He did not blame it for not telling him it's name, he had after all waited too long. Rejecting even the passing thought of fighting with his Zanpakutou, an extension of his soul that he never acknowledged.

Shades of gray swam around his waning vision, Yachiru was talking to him but it seemed distant, far away, he could not concentrate. As he was passing into a state of unconsciousness in the corner of his eye he swore that where his Zanpakutou lay, after relaxing his arm from his face, there was a woman. Although his eyes were still wet with tears and he was seconds from that all encompassing, welcoming blackness, her image was embedded in his mind.

She had long wavy crimson hair, the colour of blood ..._red...red...red... _only matched by her lips and obi with dark, dark blue eyes set in a pale face. Her whole body was ..._pale...pale...pale..._ from the parts you could see, standing out against the black, silken quality of her kimono. Hands peaking out, playing pick-a-boo among the long voluminous sleeves were dainty with wickedly sharp blood _...red...red...red..._ claw-like nails. The claws were the only thing that stood out against her short petite frame, looking odd, vicious. If one did not see her hands they would think her a geisha, her beauty was that breathtaking.

... And that deadly...

Kenpachi could not help but to think, that maybe, maybe he had a chance of learning his Zanpakutou's name one day after all. Her appearance and the sudden stop to the screaming that he never knew he heard until then gave him hope. And as he awoke a time later, injuries taken care of, he swore that he smelt the _...sweet...sweet...sweet..._ tang of blood mixed with the thrill a worthy fight. It was indescribable, reminding him of the fleeting but ingrained _...burning..._ glance he had at who he assumed to be, his Zanpakutou.

**_...Blood...Red...Crimson...Life..._**

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_**...Blood...Red...Crimson...Life...**_

The fight was exciting, making his blood race, his heart pound. Dodges and slashes, evading and striking _...blood...blood...blood..._ spilt everywhere. Coating the ground, himself, his worthy opponent. Strips of cloth lay spread across the field, soaked red, unidentifiable. He was losing and it was thrilling. Fighting for his life and though he did not plan to die, he knew he would. His crimson _...red...red...red..._ life flowing freely, weakening him; strengthening him to fight.

Faster now _...faster...faster...faster..._ they fought. Twirling, spinning, chasing, dodging, cutting, _**bleeding**_. Heart beats quickened, breath shortened, emotions heightened; exhausted, wrung out, drying. It was the best fight Kenpachi had ever partaken in, his opponent was strong. Stronger than all the rest he had ever fought, the thrill, the excitement was so invigorating, the rush of adrenaline fueled him, combating his pain. Euphoric grin plastered upon his face, unnerving his opponent, he lived for this, fought for this, and he shall _...die..._ for this. His hands slipped upon the red handle of his sword, blood red _...fatal..._ Grinning maliciously, joyously, he eagerly awaited the final blow.

_...Shock...shock...shock..._ _**'Say my name'**_ a womans voice whispered in his ear, causing him to involuntarily block the on-coming death strike. _**'Say my name Kenpachi'**_ she said again. The urge to say her name was strong, he knew it was his Zanpakutou saying it, he felt it. Upon the tip of his _...red...red...red..._ tongue, the metallic taste lingering, urging the name to spew forth. The fight had lasted hours, minutes, days? Time had lost meaning among the blood shed, the pain, the sheer enjoyment of life and death. His last legs were upon him, he knew, and he roared with all the strength his waning body possessed the name he had been searching for all these years.

"**Shi Miyabita"**.

His yellow reitsu flared around him as his eyes shone a bright gold. All strength had left him, his death was thought to be near at hand despite finally releasing his Zanpakutou. But he was wrong. The Shikai form of _'Graceful Death'_ was not normal. Almost everything and anything to do with Kenpachi was abnormal after all. So he watched, stunned as the sword in his grasp transformed into the _...black...blue...__**red**__..._ woman he had seen years ago after his defeat by Ichigo.

Her hand was grasped by his, dwarfed by the size of his own. She was oh so small, petite, fragile...vicious. She let go, giving him a small smile, her face warm, encouraging _...red..._ Then she turned to his opponent who stood transfixed, vulnerable, open to attack and a blood thirsty grin was etched upon her face. Her nimble fingers flexed, crimson claws flashing before she appeared, suddenly, in front of her humans would-be killer. Nails glinted, blood splashed, flesh **gored**. _Ba-boom_ _ba-boom_ the heart beat as _...red...red...red..._ life flowed from **Death's** outstretched hand clasping the ghastly pink organ.

Kenpachi smirked, the only thought that rang clear through his mind was the wish that this woman, _his_ Zanpakutou was a Shinigami. For after this scene none other could could compare, could be more worthy than **her** to be by his side. An almost sadistically childish grin spread upon her _...blood...blood...blood..._ coated lips as she watched the once worthy opponent die, slowly, painfully. His heart weakly palpitating in her delicate hand, and as fragile as she looked, her petite stature endeared her. Pale outstretched hand, bathed to wrist in blood _...red...red...red..._ crimson life snaking trails upon her soft flesh.

It was a shame he thought once again as her grin was turned upon him, her deep dark _blue_ eyes shining innocently; malevolently. A shame that she was his precious, Zanpakutou. She had truly created high, impossible stakes for any and all women he may ever contemplate pursuing.

But it all came down to

_**...Blood...Red...Crimson...Life...**_


End file.
